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As I worked my way through the pitfalls of the college dating scene, doubts started to creep into my mind. As one does, especially in this age of instant information, Internet and Smartphones, I started to look up information on what it was that I was dealing with. I WebMDed my “symptoms” and found that I was a fetishist. The clinical explanation of some of the sites only made my discovery worse, the way that they described my “condition” short of locking me up in a padded room, seemed like the psychological community was on the side of society, that I was a breed apart, a subsect of humanity. Melodramatic? Perhaps…ok, most assuredly. But it was not a fun experience reading about something you hold dear in such a cold and “clinical” way. I had not actually revealed my love of latex to any one of my few partners in school, though a beautiful photograph of Bianca Beauchamp and her beautiful rack, farmed in glossy black latex hung on a wall and her coffee table book took up pride of place on my bookshelf. If my dates saw it, they never said anything and it only “seemed” to confirm what I falsely thought, that I was something undesirable and less than normal. I reasoned with myself, saying, “If a guy was an ass or tit man. Or that they liked lingerie. Or if a woman enjoyed men in Speedos, or a suit or a uniform, were those not the same thing?” It was an effort to try and get ahead of my real tendency to over analyze and live too much in my own head. To try and figure out what was going on and give myself some comfort in my mental Gymnastics meet that was taking up so much of my attention and time.
During this time, as you might imagine, my sexual frustration grew. So I looked for other outlets, especially outlets that provided me some shiny stimulation. Now the full beauty of the Internet was realized, I had instant and anonymous (maybe?) access to any latex site, real or paid that I could handle. A wealth of latex clad bodies, male and female at my fingertips and hours and hours of cached movies of shiny bodies writhing in erotically shined bliss. I probably consumed more than I “should” have in the way of porn. I partially think that porn does warp our sense of connection with people and with those we love. It does set unrealistic expectations on members of society and I kept getting this uneasy feeling that my fetish was going to make those connections difficult as well. However, I don’t think that it was as warping as it appeared at the time. I think I allowed myself to be told it was damaging me. Did I expect all women on campus to have fake, double DD breasts and act and dress like a pornstar? No, though I wish I would have found one who did! Did I expect women to embellish their screams of pleasure like I saw and heard of in those movies? No, of course not, and I knew that at the time, I truly did. I felt that I had a good grasp on the reality of sex with living, breathing people and the reality of sexual “fantasy”. But the problem was that I didn’t have the link of my latex fetish to bridge the gap and to take my fantasy into reality. I wanted my kink to be full-time and shared! I didn’t want to be a closeted, frustrated fetishist who relied on the internet to give me the stimulation I desired. I wanted a true, human connection. So the semesters continued to roll on, until the fall of 2003 when I was notified that I would be deployed with my Guard unit to the Middle East. I was able to finish my semester, but the careful social and emotional groundwork that I had begun to lay was set aside as I went overseas for a year. Alone with my thoughts, my desires and my kink, trying not to live a dual life of “what are they doing back home” compared to “what my reality is on deployment”.
I returned from my deployment in the Winter of 2004/2005 and then started up with school that fall, giving myself some time to reintegrate and reestablish myself. It was during that reintegration that I started seeing a psychiatrist for some anger issues that had developed as a result of that service. It didn’t help that I had also been dumped (“it’s not you it’s me”) hard by a girl that I had been seeing that summer and I was quite literally torn asunder at that moment. In retrospect, this would have been a great time to talk to the counselor and to ask, to see what they thought, to answer the questions I had in a face-to-face manner and not rely on the my very faulty self-diagnosis. But, I didn’t, partially because I was afraid that my suspicions would be confirmed, that they would validate that what I was, who I was…was wrong. I guess I didn’t want to have to accept that part of me, which I deeply enjoyed and identified with, was “wrong”. So that conversation never came up, and a golden chance to work out my frustration and confusion went by the wayside. Counseling did help clear up my anger and my despondency over the girl, and life moved on, deeply entangled in undergraduate courses, drinking beer and enjoying the life of a college student. Still no latex, except by myself, dressing in my shirts and boxers and layering my clothes on over the top, feeling incredibly risqué and proud of my daring. But what is the fun in solo? Eventually, masturbating in latex gets old, not experiencing the joy of my kink with another individual made the experience…well, hollow! (Gasp!) I was also lonely and desperate to have a long term girlfriend so the “merry” days were not as merry as they could have been.
Now, I know what you are thinking, my relationships in college must have broken off because of my ‘proclivities”, that my porn consumption and fetish were warping my reality etc., etc. But I honestly don’t think that was it. I flirted hard and dated harder, I sent flowers, arranged dates, made dinners, arranged romantic trips to local hot springs, called…but not too much or often, and tried to spoil the women I was with. And, I think, that was the problem. I probably threw myself into my relationships too deeply and invested too much too soon. I was also trying to date women 3-4 years younger than me; and who had very little in the way of life experiences on their own. I mean, college and university is a time to experience life and build who you are as an individual away from the shelter and support of your parents. But I had already experienced that break, hours spent on guard, in vehicles in convoys, time spent with some of my closest friends in some of the shittiest times, where we covered every topic imaginable, where nothing was off limits. Developing a bond with people closer than brothers and sisters. That time in the military was wonderful in how it stripped me down and made me aware of “who” I was at a base level, but was also a colossal detriment because I wanted things in my relationships that the undergrads I was dating did not; they hadn’t been tempered in the fires of adversity and going it alone, they were beginning that journey and didn’t want to be tied down. That was how it appeared to me, though, again, in retrospect, I was inexperienced in love, so I was just as likely to have missed the signs and the hints that were given.
Eventually, I did meet someone, a girl a few years younger and an acquaintance of a friend. She actually asked my friend about me, she actually made the first move (a welcome change) and we began to hang out and then to date seriously. She was quite the caring and outgoing person, sweet, but with a core of tempered steel, she was determined and thoughtful and challenged me to be a better person. There was an easy give and take with her and I enjoyed my time with her. We were intimate, had sex frequently and sex that we both enjoyed. She had been much more promiscuous than me in high school and in college, and I say that with no judgement attached, but stating the fact. She was more experienced, but her failed relationships seemed to have attached too much baggage to her, and she never gave a hint as to what she thought about kinky and outlandish things. She was reserved and was not as adventurous as I wanted to be, but I attributed that to her past and that I wasn’t as experienced as she was. I should have broached the subject then, this was the time of my life where I needed to be strong and to take a stand for myself. I needed to vocalize my love of latex and to share that part of me…But I didn’t. Now I was in a relationship that had lasted longer than anything I had experienced before and I was scared, deeply scared that I would lose her if I admitted my true self to her. I loved her, I knew that and I saw a lot of positives in our relationship. With graduation around the corner and my future staring me in the face, a fateful decision was in the offing.
During this time, as you might imagine, my sexual frustration grew. So I looked for other outlets, especially outlets that provided me some shiny stimulation. Now the full beauty of the Internet was realized, I had instant and anonymous (maybe?) access to any latex site, real or paid that I could handle. A wealth of latex clad bodies, male and female at my fingertips and hours and hours of cached movies of shiny bodies writhing in erotically shined bliss. I probably consumed more than I “should” have in the way of porn. I partially think that porn does warp our sense of connection with people and with those we love. It does set unrealistic expectations on members of society and I kept getting this uneasy feeling that my fetish was going to make those connections difficult as well. However, I don’t think that it was as warping as it appeared at the time. I think I allowed myself to be told it was damaging me. Did I expect all women on campus to have fake, double DD breasts and act and dress like a pornstar? No, though I wish I would have found one who did! Did I expect women to embellish their screams of pleasure like I saw and heard of in those movies? No, of course not, and I knew that at the time, I truly did. I felt that I had a good grasp on the reality of sex with living, breathing people and the reality of sexual “fantasy”. But the problem was that I didn’t have the link of my latex fetish to bridge the gap and to take my fantasy into reality. I wanted my kink to be full-time and shared! I didn’t want to be a closeted, frustrated fetishist who relied on the internet to give me the stimulation I desired. I wanted a true, human connection. So the semesters continued to roll on, until the fall of 2003 when I was notified that I would be deployed with my Guard unit to the Middle East. I was able to finish my semester, but the careful social and emotional groundwork that I had begun to lay was set aside as I went overseas for a year. Alone with my thoughts, my desires and my kink, trying not to live a dual life of “what are they doing back home” compared to “what my reality is on deployment”.
I returned from my deployment in the Winter of 2004/2005 and then started up with school that fall, giving myself some time to reintegrate and reestablish myself. It was during that reintegration that I started seeing a psychiatrist for some anger issues that had developed as a result of that service. It didn’t help that I had also been dumped (“it’s not you it’s me”) hard by a girl that I had been seeing that summer and I was quite literally torn asunder at that moment. In retrospect, this would have been a great time to talk to the counselor and to ask, to see what they thought, to answer the questions I had in a face-to-face manner and not rely on the my very faulty self-diagnosis. But, I didn’t, partially because I was afraid that my suspicions would be confirmed, that they would validate that what I was, who I was…was wrong. I guess I didn’t want to have to accept that part of me, which I deeply enjoyed and identified with, was “wrong”. So that conversation never came up, and a golden chance to work out my frustration and confusion went by the wayside. Counseling did help clear up my anger and my despondency over the girl, and life moved on, deeply entangled in undergraduate courses, drinking beer and enjoying the life of a college student. Still no latex, except by myself, dressing in my shirts and boxers and layering my clothes on over the top, feeling incredibly risqué and proud of my daring. But what is the fun in solo? Eventually, masturbating in latex gets old, not experiencing the joy of my kink with another individual made the experience…well, hollow! (Gasp!) I was also lonely and desperate to have a long term girlfriend so the “merry” days were not as merry as they could have been.
Now, I know what you are thinking, my relationships in college must have broken off because of my ‘proclivities”, that my porn consumption and fetish were warping my reality etc., etc. But I honestly don’t think that was it. I flirted hard and dated harder, I sent flowers, arranged dates, made dinners, arranged romantic trips to local hot springs, called…but not too much or often, and tried to spoil the women I was with. And, I think, that was the problem. I probably threw myself into my relationships too deeply and invested too much too soon. I was also trying to date women 3-4 years younger than me; and who had very little in the way of life experiences on their own. I mean, college and university is a time to experience life and build who you are as an individual away from the shelter and support of your parents. But I had already experienced that break, hours spent on guard, in vehicles in convoys, time spent with some of my closest friends in some of the shittiest times, where we covered every topic imaginable, where nothing was off limits. Developing a bond with people closer than brothers and sisters. That time in the military was wonderful in how it stripped me down and made me aware of “who” I was at a base level, but was also a colossal detriment because I wanted things in my relationships that the undergrads I was dating did not; they hadn’t been tempered in the fires of adversity and going it alone, they were beginning that journey and didn’t want to be tied down. That was how it appeared to me, though, again, in retrospect, I was inexperienced in love, so I was just as likely to have missed the signs and the hints that were given.
Eventually, I did meet someone, a girl a few years younger and an acquaintance of a friend. She actually asked my friend about me, she actually made the first move (a welcome change) and we began to hang out and then to date seriously. She was quite the caring and outgoing person, sweet, but with a core of tempered steel, she was determined and thoughtful and challenged me to be a better person. There was an easy give and take with her and I enjoyed my time with her. We were intimate, had sex frequently and sex that we both enjoyed. She had been much more promiscuous than me in high school and in college, and I say that with no judgement attached, but stating the fact. She was more experienced, but her failed relationships seemed to have attached too much baggage to her, and she never gave a hint as to what she thought about kinky and outlandish things. She was reserved and was not as adventurous as I wanted to be, but I attributed that to her past and that I wasn’t as experienced as she was. I should have broached the subject then, this was the time of my life where I needed to be strong and to take a stand for myself. I needed to vocalize my love of latex and to share that part of me…But I didn’t. Now I was in a relationship that had lasted longer than anything I had experienced before and I was scared, deeply scared that I would lose her if I admitted my true self to her. I loved her, I knew that and I saw a lot of positives in our relationship. With graduation around the corner and my future staring me in the face, a fateful decision was in the offing.